


No Medicine for Regret

by mj4x



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Ballet, Bucky doesn't know how to deal with feelings, Christmas, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Grinding, Kissing, Mild Language, New Year's Eve, New York City, Protective Steve Rogers, Rated Mature for the language and the mild sexual content?? idk, Reader-Insert, Sexual Content, So much angst oh man, Will add more tags as the fic progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-12-23 10:53:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11988318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mj4x/pseuds/mj4x
Summary: AUY/N is a ballerina on her way to the top, surrounded by friends and family who love and support her. Suddenly, Steve's best friend and her teenage crush, Bucky Barnes, comes stumbling back into town, ten years after he left the country. With old feelings resurfacing and new ones growing, both their lives change drastically. For the better or for the worst? That's up to them to figure out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Before you guys start reading, I recommend using [this](https://chrome.google.com/webstore/detail/interactivefics/pcpjpdomcbnlkbghmchnjgeejpdlonli) Chrome extension (I'm sure you all know of already) for this fic in particular, bc it let's you change Y/N to whichever name you'd like.  
> Happy reading!

The lights cast a glow on the stage, the ballerinas’ slim figures swaying across it are illuminated by the blue glimmer. Tchaikovsky’s most famous waltz accompanies them.

The audience observes quiet, occasionally shifting in the red plush seats, enjoying the soft melody that fills the theater.

She’s in the air briefly, her legs stretched, arms raised, body twirling. The other ballerinas pirouette around the stage as her pointe shoes hit the floor. The white leotard exposing her neckline seems to sparkle under the spotlight, matching her skin that also glistens as she executes the choreographed movements. Her slim fingers brush over the white tutu that adorns her waist, and the pale feathers decorating her head bounce with each fascinating jump or elegant stride. The tights stretch against her skin as her leg lifts behind her, muscles straining under the flesh.

The waltz is coming to an end, the extending of each instrument’s sound indicates it so. But she also knows it, _feels_ it within herself, like it’s imbedded in her being after the countless hours of practice.

The ballerinas begin to take their places at the back, in front of the red curtains that separate the backstage. Some kneel, while others remain standing, the grace in their movement never faltering as they each fall into their assigned pose. The elegant composition of young women remains static, as Y/N prepares for the final leap.

The moment her feet leave the floor is as if the stage is no longer harboring a spectacle, but a human sized Degas painting. The audience inhales a collective gasp as her body floats in the air for what are scarce seconds, yet feel like minutes. Her legs are spread in a perfect line, from the tip of one pointe shoe to the other. Both arms are raised above her head, slender fingers slightly parted. Her back is straight, head raised exposing her neck.

She lands flawlessly in the center of the stage, quickly falling into the ending pose as the waltz’s final notes dissipate from the air. Motionless, she remains, a leg stretched behind her, the pointe shoe’s tip ghosting the floor. The arm spread to the side and the other to the front, linger as the audience erupts into claps.

The spotlight previously strained on her vanishes, as do the lights illuminating the rest of the stage. In the darkness, she eases off her stance, different hands slipping onto each of her own as the other ballerinas join her place. The lights return and she smiles, noticing the fellow smirking redhead to her right.

Her eyes search the audience franticly, gaze jumping from person to person. It’s hard to concentrate, the never ending claps, whistles and _Bravo!_ s assaulting her ears. Then, her hopeful eyes land on the pale face of her brother, _Peter_ , and the dimples on each side of his smiling lips. Next to him, their aunt May stands, claps echoing from her hands as she nods at the young woman on stage, proud tears brimming in her eyes.

The ballerinas bow, silently thanking the audience. Y/N’s hand slips from the redhead’s to wipe a stray tear that rolls down her cheek. Useless gesture. When her gaze shifts from her family to the row below them, a strained laugh leaves her throat and her sight becomes blurry once again.

She could swear, Thor’s thunderous claps seem to stand out amongst the others. His blonde locks shake slightly with the movement, that cheeky grin of his accentuating when he finds her gaze. Next to him, Vision and Wanda look at each other, though their clapping hands don’t falter. Their deep affection for each other can be sensed by the ballerina on stage. She is happy for them, hopes one day she’ll know that feeling too, she’s over one-night stands and failed relationships. Next to Wanda, Sam sports his trademark smirk, shaking his head slightly as if saying _Told you so_ , when Y/N is given a bouquet of red roses. On stage, she turns her head, taking a moment to look in her friend’s eyes. Natasha hands her the bouquet and kisses her cheek, rubbing her arm affectionately before joining their colleagues to the side. Y/N smiles, her expression brimming with life and joviality as she observes the hundreds of people praising her performance.

 _This feels like a dream…_ She muses, then her eyes land on the blonde next to Sam, Steve. _Stevie._ He has an honest smile gracing his pink lips, sky blue eyes twinkling. He continues clapping with the others as he tilts his head, tousled hair falling onto his forehead. He mouths, _Proud of you._ Her heart swells, his approval means so much to her. The approval of what it feels like a big brother, a father even, since any paternal figure she and Peter ever had has been stripped away constantly.

Their connection sprouted when at seven years old Steve was handed her newborn chubby self by an exhausted Mary Parker, his mother Sarah clasping the woman’s hand while his father Joseph congratulated Richard Parker with a handshake and a pat on the back. From then on, Steve Rogers watched her grow. Watched as she learned to walk, as she learned to say her parents’ names, and later his own. He was there when she begun to eat with a fork rather than her fingers, and held her five year old small form as she burst into tears on the kindergarten’s steps. Five years later he’d braid her hair as she rocked Peter in her arms, and even drive her to the mall on his blue Vespa scooter.

A couple of years of daily routines and scheduled arrangements between the Rogers and the Parkers passed, but one snowy January day Steve returned from college to his home in Brooklyn, only to find his mother hunched on the couch, eyes red and puffy with a handkerchief dabbing her nose. Joseph Rogers paced around the room for a few minutes, his own cheeks damp, before noticing his son, finally breaking the news of the Parkers’ passing. Then, Steve knew he’d never leave her side. He promised Y/N and himself, when faced with her fragile form in front of the now empty Parker residence. The sadness in her glossy eyes, masked poorly with a wavering smile as she looked down at her oblivious two year old brother, made Steve’s heart clench. The way her lip trembled as he loaded their suitcases onto his father’s car, and the quiet sniffs during the drive to her aunt’s house in Queens, caused his own cerulean eyes to water. He was mad, furious that this had happened to her of all people. He was angry, but he had promised. And he kept that promise from that very day forward. He drove her to the ballet classes in Manhattan for years, watched her grow and dive into greatness. Steve held her close when once again more recently, she was stripped of a loved one.

Steve loves her with his whole heart, not merely a friendly love, it surpasses that by much. It’s a bond that no one will ever break, he’s sure of that. She’s like a sister to him, a daughter even. He’s happy for her, so happy and proud of the young woman she has become that he feels lucky he was able to witness her grow. Y/N’s an adult now, even though sometimes she doesn’t act like it, like when she leaves dirty dishes on the sink, clothes scattered throughout the bathroom’s floor or hairs stuck to the shower’s walls in the apartment they both share in Brooklyn. He doesn’t mind though, in his eyes she’s still his little girl.

Y/N nods at him, plump lips parted in a toothy smile as her index finger swipes a tear from under her lower eyelid, careful of the glitter and eyeliner surrounding the area. Her gaze falls on the man next to Steve. Chiseled jaw adorned with a five o’clock shadow, a lopsided smile pulls at full pink lips. Hooded grey eyes follow her every movement and shoulder length chocolate hair bounces as his palms connect, defined muscles perceptible through the dark button-up covering his torso. She pauses, long forgotten memories rushing back to her mind. The sound of his laugh and how his eyes crinkle as he does so make her heart beat faster. The crooked grins he used to flash and the way _doll_ rolls off his tongue awakens butterflies in her stomach, butterflies that seem to have stuck around from a silly childhood crush.

The lights dim, as does the clapping, and people begin to exit the room. Natasha pulls Y/N backstage by the arm, but her head turns back once more.

_Was that Bucky?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it! Feedback is appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

Most of the ballerinas have left the studio that’s being used as a storing and changing room, leaving Natasha and Y/N quietly chatting in a corner near a couple benches. A mirror extends along the lengthy wall to their left, while to the right is located the long and horizontal wooden bar mostly used in the beginning of their classes and rehearsals. Scattered against the several walls of the room are hanging racks and boxes where the tutus and the rest of the costumes are stored until the next spectacle. The table near the open glass door has the sound system pushed to a corner, the articles of makeup left behind by the artist taking up most of the space. The room is well lit, the warmth irradiating from the bulbs trying, but failing, to mask the December coldness that seeps from Manhattan and into the studio through the small window.

Y/N took longer to reach the room, constantly being stopped by congratulating men and women on the way. After showing her gratitude countless times, she managed to climb up the stairs tiredly and flop onto one of the benches.

Natasha has already taken her hair off the bun it was previously in, the red locks now sprawled across her shoulders. Her white leotard is concealed by a dark green cropped sweatshirt that complements her eyes, now makeup free, while her legs are covered by black sweatpants. Her pointe shoes are stuffed inside her duffle bag, the white tights underneath her clothing the only fabric between her feet and the floor. 

The redhead sighs sympathetically at her friend’s fatigue, taking it upon herself to ease the bobby pins off Y/N’s hair, while Y/N perches a leg on her knee and begins untying the strips from around her ankle.

“Thanks Nat.” She breathes out more relaxed as long hair cascades down her back. She stands, her hands going to her scalp to massage the tender area.

Natasha unties the tutu from around Y/N’s waist, striding to one of the boxes and tossing it in, “You were amazing today.”

The head ballerina scoffs, always too keen on dismissing her own effort and work, rarely accepting complements even though today more than ever, she had proof right before her eyes that her sacrifices did pay off. Y/N slips the pointe shoes from her feet and grabs her duffle bag, trading the item for her clothes, “I was _alright_.” She slips over her head the purple NYU sweatshirt stolen from Steve’s closet.

“Parker.” Natasha leaves her place leaning against the bar, coming to stand in front of the other ballerina. The redhead crosses her arm and looks directly onto her friend’s eyes, feigning her most serious face as she addresses her for her last name, “You were amazing and you know it. Stop being so hard on yourself.”

“I could have landed that jump better Nat, my arms were off most times and don’t even get me started on-”

“Stop.” A smirk pulls at Natasha’s lips. So typical of Y/N Parker to deprecate herself, she has no idea of her talent. “The audience didn’t seem to think that.”

She rolls her eyes, “The _audience_ doesn’t know, Nat. I-”

“But Nick Fury does, and he seemed quite pleased with your performance.” Natasha chuckles at the expression on her friend’s face, “Yes, he was there, on the second balcony to the left. Didn’t you see him?”

“No, I didn’t fucking see him! Fuck, Nat!” Y/N runs a hand through her hair, her leg starting to bounce, “God damn it.” She puts on her baggy sweatpants haphazardly, groaning as she straightens up. She slips on dark fluffy socks, feet stomping the floor as she strides to the table full of beauty products and reaches for the makeup wipes.

“Y/N relax. You’re the best dancer this academy has.” Natasha says softly, trying to reason with the nervous ballerina, “I saw Fury speaking with Pepper when I was coming up. Seriously girl, you’re going places!”

Y/N removes the wipe from over her sight, earning a cackle from the redhead when she attempts to narrow her eyes through the smudged makeup that now resembles a sparkling panda. Natasha’s gaze flickers over her friend’s shoulder and her nonchalant smile turns tight lipped. The young woman looks behind her to find Steve standing in the doorway, his handsome dark haired friend close behind him.

“Steve!” She almost skips in place, running towards him. Their arms circle around each other as if they hadn’t seen each other in forever, yet they were together before the show.

“I’m so proud of you.” He whispers against her hair, his grip on her body tightening for a split second, “You’ve come so far.”

She groans against his chest and pats his back, “You’re squeezing me, big guy.” They pull away, but Steve keeps his hands on her shoulders, “Thank you Stevie.”

Natasha approaches them, coming to stand near Y/N, “Hey Steve.” Her gaze scrutinizes the man partially hidden by the blonde, “Barnes.” She almost spats, although it’s clear she’s holding back on the harshness for Steve’s sake.

Bucky tilts his head slightly, peering around Steve’s bulky form, a nonchalant grin etched onto his lips, “Sup Nat.”

Steve’s hands fall from her shoulders, an uncomfortable expression crossing his features. Y/N’s gaze flickers from Natasha to Bucky, and then lands on Steve who shrugs. She is younger than Natasha, Bucky, Sam, most of her friends really, but she grew up around them as they are Steve’s friends too. So, she knows Natasha had _a thing_ with Bucky when they all went to high school.  That was more than ten years ago, yet the redhead’s demeanor still changes drastically when around the brunette, grudges clearly still held. Y/N has never pried, deep down knowing Natasha probably wouldn’t tell despite their friendship. He must have hurt her deeply for the wounds to still be felt.

“Hey uh-” Steve clears his throat, trying to move the conversation forward, to ease the tension in the air, “Y/N, you remember Bucky, right?”

How could she not?

Her eyes connect with his ice blue ones that send jitters throughout her body, sensation not felt in a while. She observes motionless as he steps forward, his pearly whites showing in a crooked smile, “Hey dollface.” Her heart stutters, suddenly feeling like a teenager all over again. He motions with his head to the side, “You looked beautiful back there.” Bucky pauses for a few seconds, his gaze surveying her pretty face before glancing briefly at her toned body, “She grew up.” He says to Steve, even though his gaze lingers on her.

Steve chuckles as he pats Bucky’s back, “Yeah, well, it tends to happen in ten years, Buck.”

She remains in her place, static, as if frozen by his glare. It takes Natasha to touch her arm for her to grunt in acknowledgement of their words.

Chocolate colored hair bounces slightly as Bucky’s chest shakes with a warm chuckle. The locks that had fallen off their place are neatly pushed back again with his hand. His blue orbs lift from the floor to her own again, “I’m gonna head back. I’ll see ya around, Parker.” He gives her a quick wink and with that, he’s gone.

It’s as if a weight is taken off her shoulders, a spell being lifted. Her heart still races, but her voice functions once again, more than enough to scream at the blonde with, “What the fuck Steve?!”

“Barnes, Steve, seriously?” Natasha asks at the same time, her arms crossed like Y/N’s, making them both seem like sulking children.

Steve’s hands are up in front of him, like he’s taming a beast, a dazzled look on his face, “Natasha, I’m sorry. Y/N, language.”

She huffs, “You brought Bucky Barnes!” Her mind screams, _he’ll be a distraction, get away_. “Wasn’t he in Afghanistan? What does he want now?” The words come out harsher than intended, however she keeps her stance. She feels like a child again around Bucky, and it exasperates her. The way her body feels reminds her of her fifteen year old self back at the Rogers’ place when Bucky used to come over. How he would play Mario Kart with her and let her win, or that 4th of July they made a cake together so they could surprise Steve on his birthday. The hugs he would give her, not knowing he was fueling the bubbly feelings within her.

The blonde’s face hardens, “You know it’s not like that. Bucky was in the army and he’s finally over with it. He’s seen bad stuff Y/N. He’s _been through_ bad stuff. He’s suffering from PTSD, and that’s why I need to talk to you.”

Natasha sees this as her cue to leave and slips through the door inaudibly. Steve sighs loudly and runs a hand through his blonde hair as the younger woman in front of him ponders what might be causing him to fret. After a few minutes he spills quickly, “Buck needs a place to stay for a few weeks and I offered our apartment.”

It takes thirty seconds for Y/N to fully process what Steve just said.

She’s annoyed. She’s beyond annoyed when she gazes into Steve’s puppy eyes and knows she won’t be able to say _no_. She’s pissed that she’ll have to share the bathroom, and that their living room will vanish and turn to be Bucky’s space. She’s mad he’ll be sleeping in the navy blue couch that’s usually Peter’s when he sleeps over. But she doesn’t voice this, she doesn’t even show it in her features in the slightest because it wouldn’t be fair after all Steve’s done for her. Even this little ‘outburst’ she just had was plain childish and she recognizes it. It’s not Bucky’s fault, he just needs help. So, she only plasters on the most honest smile she can muster and nods, “Of course, Steve.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy! I'm extremely excited for this fic, it's very angsty and sad but I'm trash that's why I wrote it and love it lmao  
> Thank you for reading <3


	3. Chapter 3

An enraged taxi speeds by them, the driver shouting obscene words through the window. Steve flinches, yet keeps driving his car, attentive to the speed limit, “So, I know you don’t really like him, but-” Steve glances from the road to Y/N in the passenger seat, whose eyebrow is raised questioningly, “-Tony invited us all to have dinner at that Shawarma place downtown.”

She throws her head back against the seat and groans.

It’s not that she doesn’t like Tony Stark, it’s just that he’s kind of an asshole. A funny asshole, but an asshole nonetheless. The rich asshole who just so happens to be friends with Steve, but also own the academy she dances in and be married to her ballet teacher and choreographer Pepper.

Tony is a teaser, he likes to pick on everyone around him and Steve seems to be the main target of all these provocations. Steve and his soft spot – Y/N.   

They’re on their way back to their place, currently crossing Brooklyn Bridge. Bucky was left with Sam and the others, while Natasha headed home to tidy up. Steve offered to take Y/N back so she can get ready for the dinner she only came to know of now.

“Why Steveeeee?” She whines, clutching her jacket closer.

“To celebrate! You were a success today, everybody loved it!” Steve replies, his hand slapping away her gloved one from where it was fiddling with the air conditioner.

She huffs, looking out the window for a few seconds, admiring Brooklyn’s cityscape extending along her sight. Her head turns back to the blonde, “When is Bucky moving in?” She asks nonchalantly, smoothly, or not so much, steering the conversation to where she wants it.

Steve turns the steering wheel, glancing at the rearview mirror, “He’s coming back with us tonight.”

She hums in acknowledgement, her gaze returning to the road while she muses over whether or not she should be excited that she and her teenage crush are going to be living under the same roof.

They drive in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, the hum of the radio being heard faintly. They come to a stop light before Steve speaks, “Ya know, Bucky can be a bit… difficult.” The blonde runs his hands over his thighs rapidly, hoping to create some warmth, “He’s changed, might be different than what you remember.” He looks at the ballerina with a somewhat pleading look on his features, “Go easy on him, alright?”

Their gazes remain locked for a few seconds, Y/N scrutinizing Steve’s face and the concern it irradiates. The light turns green and he shifts his orbs back to the road.

“Jeez, you two should marry each other.” She jokes, chuckling lightheartedly, although she did take Steve’s word into consideration. Bucky can’t be that different, right? She supposes she’ll find out eventually, sooner than later.

They reach the front of their building, the rumble of the engine vanishing as Steve turns the car off. Neither of them make a move to leave the vehicle, both breathing out heavily, readying themselves to face the cold air outside and the scrunch of the snow beneath their boots.

Steve glances at his watch, “Alright, you have about an hour and a half to get ready. Is that enough?”

“No.” She breathes out playfully while rubbing her gloved hands together, although she _could_ use a little more time.

“C’mon. I need us to not get late for once.”

“Only if you tidy up the place meanwhile.” She offers, thinking of the two blankets sprawled across the couch and the hot chocolate dirtied mugs from last night that remain on the coffee table of their living room. Not to mention the kitchen and the set of used dishes and cutlery she said she’d clean up today’s morning but never did.

Steve snorts and hangs his head, defeated. He looks at her, returning her smirk, “Deal.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bc this is such a short chapter, I might post the next one later today eheh ;)  
> Hope you guys enjoyed! Ready yourselves, the angst is near muahaha


	4. Chapter 4

The cold hits the exposed skin of their faces as they stride through the streets of Manhattan. Specks of snow fall from the indigo sky above them, yet the life brimming from each corner and street of the city doesn’t falter. Christmas decorations adorn every building, Macy’s detailed windows attracting children who stand bewildered on the sidewalk. People rush in and out of the stores, clearly victims of the late Christmas shopping.

Steve’s arm is placed around her shoulders, bringing her close to his side as they dodge the tourists and businessmen scattered throughout the streets. He leads her to the little-known restaurant near Bryant Park, the entrance partially illuminated by the fairy lights hanging above the big window that oversees the naked trees of the park. From the outside laughs can be heard, no doubt caused by something Sam said, judging by the smug grin plastered on his face as Steve and Y/N observe through the glass. The blonde opens the door for her with one hand, the other busy unwinding the plaid scarf from around his neck.

Loud greetings are voiced once their friends’ eyes catch the two, earning a couple side glances by the few other costumers in the room.

“There they are! The wonder couple!” Tony, in his Tom Ford suit, claps his hands together at the head of the long table for ten. He receives a glare from her, to which he replies with a smirk.

“Drunk already, Stark?” She counters, moving towards her seat. The rest burst into laughter, a smile pulling at her own lips.

She reaches her seat and curses inwardly at whoever made the arrangement: Thor in front of her, Wanda to her right, and to her left _Bucky Barnes_. Her face remains impassive, gaze forward as she ditches the excessive layers of clothing, failing to notice the greyish orbs that observe the action. She doesn’t notice his eyes following her fingers as they unwind the fluffy scarf, exposing her neck, or the way his gaze trails down the V line of her cleavage to the fitted black jeans that accentuate her hips. Involuntarily, his tongue peaks out, darting along his bottom lip when a strip of skin of her lower back is uncovered as she hangs the clothing. Her body turns, but stops moving for longer than he was expecting. The trance he was in is broken off when his eyes lift and find hers staring right back at him, a brow raised. He turns around smoothly, clearing his throat as he surveys the rest of the table. Yup, he was the only one staring at her over his shoulder. Luckily, the others are too engrossed in their own conversations to have noticed. Except for Sam. Sam narrows his eyes at Bucky in front of him, a sneaky smile exposing the small gap in his teeth when the brunette becomes flustered.

Y/N slides onto her seat, wondering if she’s seeing things or Bucky was actually undressing her with his gaze. She whispers a quick greeting at him and receives a side hug from Wanda who compliments her performance. To her front, Thor lifts the beer mug to his lips before telling his plans for Christmas day, only a week away, which are to return to his hometown with Jane and spend the day with his family. He emphasizes the mayhem his brother causes each year, from accidentally catching the Christmas tree on fire, to the mess he makes of the house, “You two should hang out sometime.” He adds, teasing the ballerina, beard surrounded lips pulled onto a grin.

They order the food and another wine bottle on Tony’s request. As they wait, Wanda flips her long brown hair onto her other shoulder and begins updating Y/N on her twin’s whereabouts. Pietro seems to be doing fine in LA from what Wanda is saying, his career as an athlete having taken over fast after he arrived to the city, which relieves the ballerina. Last time she saw Pietro was about three years ago at the airport, a week after they had broken off their two year relationship, deciding it was for the best to keep a connection as friends. She can still remember the tousled grey hair falling onto his forehead, his accented voice and the kind, yet cheeky words he would say. It brings a smile to her face, to know she had the pleasure to be with such a sweet guy as Pietro.

The food is placed in front of them as Y/N is asked that same question: where is she going for Christmas? “Oh, I’ll probably just head to Queens.” A strand of hair is pushed behind her ear, as her friends nod in understanding, “Maybe spend a good part of the 25th with these dorks.” She motions to the left with her head, towards Steve and their new _roommate_ while the others chuckle. The genuine twinkle that surfaces on Bucky’s eyes goes unnoticed as everyone’s attention is diverted to Tony, who speaks. 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s all incredibly sweet and thoughtful, but!-” Tony takes the time to eye everyone at the table before continuing, “-I want each and every single one of you, my children, to attend the legendary party that is going to be the Stark’s New Year’s Eve party.” He leans back on his chair and takes a swig of his wine, grinning behind the rim with flushed cheeks, satisfied with himself.

What succeeds is a series of groans, giggles and _Oh no_ ’s.

Tony quickly straightens up in his seat, “Hey, don’t you laugh at me! I have Happy taking care of everything!” He says offended, his voice tone loud, “If any of you asses doesn’t show up, _I will hunt you down._ ” He narrows his eyes and points a finger at Steve particularly, rightfully accusing the blonde of skipping his events.

The threat is ignored, everyone snorting at Tony’s disheveled hair and flushed face. Y/N chuckles, reminded of previous parties Tony was the host of, where windows of his expensive penthouse were broken or the lobby’s fountain contaminated with Sam’s piss.

Bucky savors her quiet laugh, observing how her lips stretch beautifully and her nose scrunches. Y/N was always a pretty little thing, but she’s grown… gorgeous. Bucky remembers her smaller form hiding behind Steve when they first met. He’d outstretched his hand and asked her name. Afterwards, he gave her his and said, _Nice to meet you, doll._ He never forgot the way her gaze lit up at the pet name.

She was always Steve’s ‘little sister’ to him, a kid to mess with and tease. However, before he left to the army, he did notice the way she looked at him. It was different. It wasn’t like the innocent looks she used to send his way. It had something else behind it, lurking onto the surface slowly, just waiting to be freed.

She was fifteen, he was twenty, it would have never worked out. Would it? Bucky isn’t sure, but he muses over it in this moment, while he watches her burgundy painted lips sip wine of the same color. He muses over it like he did ten years ago, when he was seated on the subway by himself returning from the Rogers’ residence where he’d seen her for the last time.

 _No, it wouldn’t have worked_ , he decides. She was a barely a teen. Beautiful, sassy and kind, but barely a teen. Now though, Bucky stares shamelessly, no longer bothered by age restrictions or army duties. She’s a pleasure to look at, performing or not. It’s as if grace and beauty irradiate from her very own being. The dim lightning of the place shading her collarbones flawlessly, her slender fingers wrapping around the cutlery or that tic she has of running the pad of her thumb over her jaw while immersed in a conversation. It all does… _things_ to him. Lust sprouts within, eating him up inside, but he can’t help it.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky calls, to get her attention. She turns her head towards him and he can’t help the soft chuckle that leaves him when her eyes widen slightly, “Is everythin’ alright? You’ve barely said a word tonight.”

“Oh,” She chuckles nervously, not being able to stop her eyes from wandering down his muscled arms as he crosses them on top of the table, “It’s- Uh… I’m just tired, you know?” Which is not entirely a lie, but not exactly the truth either. She’s just flustered because of him. Y/N brings the wine glass to her lips so she has something to blame the flush of her cheeks on.

The waiter removes their plates as Bucky hums, leaning back on his chair. His head is slightly tilted, his eyes don’t leave her face even though she keeps hers forward, “Yeah, you were amazin’ today. I mean, ya already were before-” He chuckles halfheartedly, “-before I left.” He pauses when she turns her head fully to him and their gaze finally connects, giving him a full view of the sharply drawn cat eye and natural beauty marks that adorn her face, “How long you been dancin’? Twelve years?” Bucky asks, attempting to strike a conversation with the ballerina. He missed several steps of her life, he wants to get caught up.

“Seventeen, actually.” She smiles at his interest, her nervousness decreasing with the familiarity of his tone, “Since I was eight.”

From there, their conversation flows effortlessly, jumping from her performances over the years, to his time with Steve and the others in college. Bucky also tells her how everything’s changed since he was last in New York, from the city’s atmosphere to the technology that it engulfs and how he still hasn’t figured what Snapchat is for. She giggles at his innocence, offering to teach him how to use it. He grins and accepts.

To Bucky’s right, Steve observes, happy, but also slightly wary that Bucky has opened to Y/N. Even with _Sam_ Bucky’s still skeptical, only trusting his strong personality with Steve. But now, the blonde notices the way Bucky’s eyes twinkle as he listens to her soft voice, or how a blush spreads in her cheeks when he calls her _doll_. A frown sets upon Steve’s features, a frown he attempts to hide by intertwining his hands and placing them in front of his mouth. Steve… _hopes_ this, whatever _this_ is, doesn’t go beyond friendship. He’s seen how Bucky is with women - cocky, a bit pretentious, with a tendency to dump them more often than not. What Bucky did to Natasha… If he were to do it to Y/N, Steve wouldn’t forgive him. When it happened with Nat, it had pained him to see the redhead’s usual fierce and jovial stance broken to pieces. He and Bucky had fought about it, countless times, but with an _I’m sorry._ and a _It won’t happen again._ from the brunette, Steve had let it go. Because it was _Bucky Barnes_ , his best friend, Steve would always forgive him. _Except_ if he messed with his little girl. If Bucky ever did _anything_ to her, Steve would not be benevolent. He just wouldn’t. He refused to.

Bucky throws his hands in the air, “I can’t believe you’d rather be a jedi, Parker. Have ya seen _Darth Maul_?”

“I refuse to acknowledge the existence of those prequels, _Barnes_.” She teases behind the rim of her tall wine glass, “But what can I say, I always had a crush on Obi-Wan.”

He snorts at her words, “C’mon doll, ya can’t say the sith aren’t badass.”

She hums for a couple seconds, tapping her chin as if thinking. Finally giving in, she replies, “Yeah, they’re pretty badass.” Y/N waits for his mouth to spread into a cocky grin, before continuing, “But the jedi are better.”

He groans and hangs his head, brown locks concealing his profile. As her voice sounds once again, he tilts his head so their gazes find each other.

“And I’m gonna prove it to you tonight, when we watch _The Empire Strikes Back_.” She lifts both eyebrows and bites her bottom lip, waiting for his reaction.

Bucky chuckles warmly, the excited expression she holds reminding him of her younger self when he used to come over, “Sure thing, dollface.” Shyly, she looks away from him, nodding as a smile pulls at her lips.

Before any more words can be exchanged, Tony stands from his seat, with his wine glass in hand, arm spread in front of him, “I suggest a toast!” Everyone stands, grabs their glasses and outstretch their arms, creating a bundle of half filled wine glasses above the center of the table. Tony begins, making eye contact with the ballerina, an honest grin plastered on his face, “Here’s to Y/N and her dandy long legs that’ll take her places, literally and not so literally. May your future be filled with opportunities, kiddo. To you.”

Various “To Y/N!” echo through the restaurant, as the ten glasses clink together. She bows her head at the billionaire in gratitude, a soft, shy smile gracing her lips as everyone’s attention turns to her.

Vision snakes a pale arm over her shoulders and squeezes her against him, clinking their glasses together, while Sam sneaks behind and ruffles her hair. Pepper kisses her cheeks, saying how much she’s valued at the academy as Tony stands by his wife’s side, teasing the young woman restlessly. Wanda fixes the disheveled hair Sam gave her friend as Nat tries to arrange a girl’s night out between them. Steve attempts to pry the glass away from Y/N’s hand, claiming she’s drank too much, but only receives a glare and a punch to the shoulder. Thor’s booming laugh sounds as he pats Steve on the back and says that this _petty drink_ is nothing compared to his homemade liqueur.

Finally, she feels someone touch her unoccupied hand, a glass soon clinking against hers. Bucky flashes her that dazzling grin of his, “To you, babydoll.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos, bookmarks and lovely comments!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Bucky starts to act like a horny little shit. Beware

 

**_7.30 a.m._ **

 

The annoying beeping sound coming from her phone repeats restlessly while she rolls in bed. A groan leaves her mouth, the headache on her skull seems to pulse with the alarm’s rhythm. Her hand knocks over several items on the nightstand before curling around the device. Y/N taps the screen and flops back in bed, hooded eyes staring at the ceiling.

She shouldn’t have drunk that much yesterday.

White sheets untangle from around her legs and she kicks them haphazardly onto the wooden floor of her bedroom. She stretches her body against the bed, a sigh leaving her mouth when different joints pop. Her bare feet hit the floor as she stands, several bandages wrapped around her toes from yesterday’s performance. Opening the door of her room, she steps outside.

She walks into the living room and snickers when soft snores are heard from inside Steve’s room at the end of the corridor. Her fingers move to her patterned shorts, smoothing down creases as she heads to the well equipped kitchenette on her left. The white tank top she wears exposes her waist as she reaches for the cupboard above, taking a bowl out of it and setting it on the counter. She moves to the fridge and removes her water bottle and a greek yogurt, humming a soft melody as she does so, failing to notice the chocolate haired man watching her from the living room’s couch.

“Mornin’, Parker.” Bucky greets in sleep hoarse voice as he untwists the blankets from around his naked torso.

Y/N jumps with a yelp, hitting the fridge’s door and causing the bottles and packages inside to jiggle and knock together. She hears Bucky’s warm laugh so she glares at him over her shoulder, closing the fridge’s door hastily, “Fuck you.”

The brunette gets around the couch, mugs and bowls from last night’s movie session still scattered on top of the coffee table. A hand smooths his disheveled hair as he approaches and leans against the kitchen island watching her prepare her breakfast, not at all admiring the way her braless breasts move against the tank top with each movement.

She notices Bucky’s gaze lingering on her chest, but says nothing as she is too mesmerized by his muscled torso. Her eyes ghost his left arm, scarred tissue from his hand to his shoulder, in the latter the damaged area diffuses into small branches that eventually merge with the pale skin. Steve had told her, but she didn’t know what to expect. She grimaces involuntarily, disturbed not by the marked skin but by the pain he must have endured.

“Where are ya going?”

Her attention snaps to his face and she feigns her most nonchalant expression, “Ballet class.” She dumps the granola on top of the yogurt that’s now on the bowl, “You? Did I wake you?” Her eyebrows plunge into a frown.

“No doll, don’t worry about it.” He crosses his arms over his chest, grey sweatpants hanging low on his waist, “I uh, I’m going to one of those meetings with Sam.” His eyes drop to the floor and jaw clenches.

She knows what kind of meeting he’s talking about. Sam’s work with PTSD victims in the Department of Veteran Affairs has been recognized all around New York city. Besides, if Steve believes it’ll be good for Bucky, it probably is. She doesn’t comment on it though, sensing the stiffness that has ensued upon his body. Instead, she hums, seating on the counter in front of him, “Do you ah… Do you need a ride?” She offers, knowing that Sam’s work is in Manhattan, close to Pepper’s academy.

His blue eyes widen as they return to hers. He waves a hand dismissively, “Oh no Parker, I’ll take the subway, it’s f-”

“Buck, I’m headed that way too.” She interrupts, popping a berry into her mouth, “We can have lunch after, if… you want to?” The last three words come out rushed and questioningly, so Y/N decides that stuffing a spoon of yogurt inside her mouth is the best escape from the flush that threatens to spread throughout her face.

The mischievousness on Bucky’s cerulean eyes resurfaces as he pushes himself off the counter, “Sure, I’ll have lunch with you babydoll.” He moves closer to where she’s seated.

Her face gaze is focused on the bowl she’s holding with one hand, the other snatching a berry from the package next to her, “Alright, cool. You should eat something now though, or else you’ll-” Her breath gets caught on her throat, the berry on its way to her parted lips stops midair when Bucky settles his hips between her legs. Both his muscled arms are perched on the counter, on the side of each of her thighs, leaving his face inches way from hers.

“You were saying, Parker?” He whispers in that velvety voice of his that causes her core to tighten.

Her earth rate begins to pick up, her need to squirm more prevalent. She suppresses a whimper when Bucky’s breathing fans her cheek. Her eyes close as his plump pink lips ghost her jaw, “Y-you should eat something n-now, ‘cause you might get hungry l-later.” She stammers, hooded eyes observing the tongue that runs over his bottom lip.

“Hmm, yeah? Ya know, I’m pretty hungry right now.” Bucky whispers back slowly, savoring how much of a mess he made her in a couple minutes. _God, she’s beautiful._ It takes every single nerve in his body for him not to not push his lips against hers right now.

Is Y/N dreaming or is Bucky Barnes flirting with her? She wouldn’t call it flirting, actually, she’s not quite sure what she would call it, all her mind can focus on right now is the man teasing her shamelessly. The grey of his eyes, partially concealed by lust blown pupils, together with the way his orbs roam her body causes her to swallow hard. The fact that she can feel him against her thigh sends shivers through her body. _Jesus_ , she’s a mess.

At the lack of response, Bucky chuckles quietly, reaching for her hand. He brings the berry held between her thumb and index finger to his mouth, lips ghosting the pad of her digits.

“Good morning!” Steve’s distant voice comes from the corridor in between steps of his sock covered feet. 

She jumps off the counter immediately and turns her back to Bucky, unable to look him in the eye, while Bucky backs away with a smirk, leaning against the island again.

“Mornin’ Steve.” The brunette greets, chewing the berry leisurely as Steve walks into the room. From the corner of his eye, he watches her stuff the rest of the bowl into her mouth, quickly placing the dish and spoon inside the sink.

“Hey Stevie.” She kisses the blonde’s cheek and darts to her room, pausing in front of the door. She turns back, “Meet me o-outside when you’re ready to leave.” She says quietly, glancing at Bucky briefly before disappearing inside her bedroom.

Steve fills a glass with tap water and takes a sip, a frown crossing his features as he looks in the direction Y/N left, “What’s gotten into her?”

Bucky presses his mouth into a tight line, trying to not show the grin etched onto his features. He hangs his head, brown locks falling from their place perched on his shoulders, “No idea.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments! Feedback is always appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6

“So, Barnes uh?”

“W-what?”

On the sound system, a soft piano melody plays. The several ballerinas are scattered across the room, executing the warm up exercises as Pepper strides in-between them, correcting an arm that’s not high enough, or a foot not quite in the right place. They’re facing the mirror that extends along the wall, where Y/N can see Natasha’s narrowed green eyes next to her.

Nat scoffs, glaring at her friend from the corner of her eye, “You and Bucky.”

Y/N glances at the redhead briefly, adjusting her posture once again, “What’re you talking about, Nat?”

“I saw the way you were looking at each other last night.” Natasha straightens her body from the plié position she was in, crossing her arms as she turns fully to her friend, ignoring the class, “I can’t believe you’re actually getting involved with that asshole after what he did to me.” She adds, disbelief lacing her tone.

The ballerina’s brows furrow, her mouth agape as she shakes her head, “Bucky is Steve’s friend and he needs help, you know this. Can you blame me for being friendly with him? I’ve known him since I was a kid, for fuck’s sake!” She says exasperated, her arms dropping to her sides. “And you never told me what happened between the both of you, so don’t pull that shit with me, Nat.” She hisses, a finger pointed at the redhead.

Natasha’s mouth parts, but Pepper’s voice is heard instead, “Do we have a problem, girls?” The woman’s concerned gaze flickers between both dancers, hands on her waist as she awaits an answer.

“No.” Y/N replies simply, adjusting her body once again, her movements quickly falling into rhythm with the music as she continues the class.

She’s reluctant, due to Natasha’s words and Bucky’s actions this morning that had her on a frenzy. What do they mean? What does Bucky want? What does _Y/N_ want? Is it just lust, or does the brunette actually feel something for her other than physical attraction? Does she feel anything for him now? She knows she did at fifteen. She liked him, the whole of him, from his looks to his personality. She may have even _loved_ him. The ballerina doesn’t know, tries not to care.

Ten years have passed, but with Bucky’s sudden reappearance her emotions have been a mess, who knows what will happen with them living under the same roof? It’s been less that twenty-four hours since he’s walked back into her life and she’s already squirmed under his lustful gaze once. That, if the car ride here doesn’t count. An extremely uncomfortable and silent car ride for her, while Bucky, as always, kept his relaxed posture against the seat, bottom lip pulled back by his teeth as his cerulean gaze roamed over her profile.

 _God_ , what is she getting herself into?

“C’mon girls, form a line over there.” Pepper orders over the piano, her manicured hand waving haphazardly to one of the corners of the room.

Y/N gets in line behind the other ballerinas. From the corner of her eye, she notices the redhead slip behind her, “You know I care about you, Y/N. That’s why I’m concerned.” Natasha mumbles quietly, her emotions seemingly controlled.

The ballerina only scoffs as Pepper claps and it’s her turn to do the exercise, “Cabriole!” Her teacher repeats. Y/N steps forward and begins, her arms spread and pointe shoes touching in the air as she executes the movement. She reaches the other side of the room, receiving a pat on the arm by Pepper as well as a _Very good,_ then joining the line of ballerinas forming on this side.

Natasha darts to her once her shoes hit the floor, “Bucky is not someone who sticks around. He doesn’t do relationships, Y/N, he doesn’t take commitment seriously. I just-” She sighs in defeat, her green eyes dropping, “-I just want you to be aware of that.”

“Alright Nat, I get it. And thank you for the heads up, but _nothing_ is happening between me and Bucky.” She chuckles dismissively at the red head, “Nothing to worry about.”

Natasha’s plump lips spread into a small smile, masking the fact that she sees right through every single word that just came out of her friend’s mouth. She doesn’t believe it because she knows. She once fell for him too.

 

[…]

 

She stands on the sidewalk, gloved hands gripping the jacket closer to her body. The low temperature causes her nose to go numb and her eyes to water. She sniffs, annoyed, as she adjusts the furry earmuffs on her head, backing up against the wall of a building nearby to stay out of the way of rushing pedestrians.

Y/N is waiting for Bucky, who’s late. As always. _Guess that didn’t change,_ she muses, recalling how they would always get to the movie theater late because he’d got caught styling his hair, or that one time she and Steve waited on his doorstep for an hour as he tried on different outfits.  

She takes a deep breath, because despite all that, today Bucky’s late for a good reason. He hasn’t shown visible signs of PTSD until now, but she knows he needs help. Steve told her some of the _things_ Bucky opened up about and it just let her more worried. Hopefully Sam’s meetings will help.

The sun shines, despite December’s harsh temperatures. Tourists slip in and out of Central Park’s Women’s Gate constantly, waving their Canon SDs and selfie sticks around. Her gaze jumps from person to building lazily, unfazed by the streets that have become familiar over the years.

She sweeps her eyes across the sidewalk, landing on a couple walking by. Then, she notices an older woman inside the park, feeding the pigeons happily. Her gaze jumps once again to across the road.

There he is. Bucky, with his swagger walk visible even through layers of clothing. Blue eyes stay hidden by aviator glasses as he adjusts the collar of the brown leather jacket covering his torso. He runs a hand through his hair when he notices her huddled form across the street, the smirk on his pink lips partially concealed by the dark scarf around his neck. Bucky’s gloved hands return to the pockets of his jeans, his boot covered feet stomping the zebra crossing as he approaches her, “Sorry to keep ya waitin’ doll. Got a bit caught up with Sam. Ya know how he is when he uh…” He chuckles lightheartedly, “…when he starts talkin’.”

“It’s okay, Buck.” She replies, slightly relieved that he’s not in a bad mood after the meeting, or at least doesn’t seem to be, “Ready to go?” Y/N starts walking, sure to keep her distance from the brunette at her side, “I know this _awesome_ diner a few blocks away, I think you’ll like it. Actually, I think y-you-” Bucky places his arm around her shoulder and presses her to his side. She wonders if he noticed the distance she was trying to put between them and decided to pull this little stunt to tease her. Probably. The ballerina clears her throat, “I think you went there with us once on my birthday or something.” She mumbles, crossing her arms like a sulking child.

The lunch at the diner goes relatively uneventful, save for a couple flirty glances and remarks made by the brunette. It allowed them to savor the familiar taste of the diner’s famous Bacon Cheeseburger Deluxe (Bucky’s favorite) and share the huge red velvet cake slice they used to eat when they were younger, joined by the classic chocolate milkshakes.

They leave the diner with stomachs full, too full for Y/N’s liking, so she suggests a walk through Central Park. _Big mistake._

Bucky’s arm returns to her shoulders, hand playing with the ends of her hair as they stroll silently through the park. Joggers, as well as tourists in rented bicycles pass by them occasionally, mindful of the snow that covers the dirt around the pathways. Bucky slows their pace to a stop on Gapstow Bridge, overseeing the Pond and the few ducks that venture into the freezing water.

She leans against the stone wall, gloved hands playing with the snow on top of it as she admires the sunny, yet cold atmosphere of Manhattan. A soft breeze blows for a couple seconds, rustling the shorter strands of hair to her face. Before her hand reaches them, Bucky’s pushes the hair away, fingers then moving under her chin. He turns her head towards him, the aviators now perched on his head, blue eyes studying her face under the sunlight, “Have I told ya how beautiful you are Parker?”

Y/N scoffs lightly, gaze flickering to the ground, not used to these sappy compliments.

“No, I mean it.” Bucky cups her cheek, his other hand moving to her hip as he steps closer. His face approaches her, their eyes locked, “You’re beautiful Y/N.”

The fifteen year old inside her is blasting with glee while her twenty-five year old mind screams _No, no, no, no!_ Her body has the most genuine reaction, her heart quickens its pace and her lips beg for contact.

What the hell is she doing? She recalls Bucky’s hook-ups, the one night stands and the one month lasting girlfriends. Above all, she remembers Natasha’s words this morning. She knows they’ll never have anything serious. That’s just not in Bucky’s nature.

But _god_ , she’s wanted this for so long. So, so long. To just feel his velvety lips molding with hers, tongues wrestling together as her fingers dig into his hair… She can almost swear the look on his eyes is genuine, that it surpasses lust. That he might feel something for her, _love her_. She believes so, or tries to convince herself that he might one day.

Their foreheads press together, Bucky’s breath fanning over her parted lips. Both their eyes are closed, his thumb caressing her cheek, “Bucky…” She whispers in a soft voice, her hand placed on top of his.

“Yes babydoll?” He whispers back, his cerulean eyes opening and meeting her closed ones, long lashes laid across her blushed cheeks.

“We shouldn’t-”

“Just tell me to stop and I will, doll. You just gotta tell me.”

She keeps quiet, because she _doesn’t_ want him to stop.

This is wrong. Buck’s Steve’s best friend and Y/N is like a little sister to Steve, it won’t end well because of who Bucky is and he knows it, they both know it. He always manages to fuck up anything good that comes along. He did so with Natasha and he’ll do it again with Y/N. But the brunette can’t help himself around her. Lord knows he can’t. She makes him feel like no woman ever did, lightweight, happy, _himself_. He’s aware of that and it scares him. It scares him because she is too good for him, he doesn’t deserve her after everything he’s done. There will be consequences, bad ones because Bucky won’t let her get attached and it’ll hurt her deeply. He decides that inwardly, knowing he’ll keep wanting her painfully for as long as they remain around each other.

The way her orbs flicker pleadingly to his, crumble every wall he’d ever put up. He tells himself he’ll build them again afterwards, but now he doesn’t care.

Bucky pushes his lips against hers finally, a heavy sigh leaving both while their eyes close involuntarily. His arm snakes around her waist and pulls her body flush against his as her hands circle his neck, tugging at the brown locks slightly. The taste of each other’s lips feels like a drug, their need for more becoming desperate. One of Y/N’s hands grabs the lapel of his jacket, trying to pull the brunette closer as his tongue gains access to her mouth. Their tongues touch like in her fantasies, the wet surfaces wrestling each other restlessly while their noses brush together despite the angle of their heads.

After a minute, they pull back panting heavily for air. The sweet taste of her lips lingers on his mouth as a sigh makes its way through. He eyes her innocent features, studying them carefully because he won’t see them again this close. The beautiful kiss reddened lips he swipes a thumb over, the round orbs that look at him confused, the cute nose that sniffs and tears that roll down her cheeks as he turns to leave.

He was dumb to think this could work, that _he_ could work, Bucky realizes that now. This was a goodbye kiss. From now on she’s not _babydoll_ , _dollface_ or _doll,_ she’s Y/N Parker, Steve’s little sister and his friend. Nothing else.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY.  
> Buckle up boys and girls, angst incoming in the next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

The house is silent as she steps inside and closes the door tiredly. Steve must be at his gallery while Bucky… she doesn’t care. Streaks of smudged make up stain her cheeks, her eyes red and droopy from the hour long ride spent crying.

She should have known. Of course Bucky would lead her on shamelessly to then leave her alone sobbing in the middle of Manhattan. Only Y/N Parker would be this fucking naïve and think she stood a chance with _Bucky Barnes_.

Did he even mean what he said? Were the nice complements and romantic actions honest, or were them just a way to get into her pants? The ballerina doesn’t know. She couldn’t tell the difference then, why would she now?

Y/N discards the excessive clothing, flopping on the couch afterwards almost mechanically. The tv is turned on but she doesn’t pay attention, the voices and sounds turning into distant noise as her gaze fixates on the corner of the room, the white wall with one of Steve’s paintings becoming unfocused the more she stares.

 _Bucky Barnes doesn’t do relationships_ , she heard it from Natasha first hand, yet the ballerina was dumb enough to think they could go slow and eventually have something worth sharing. She wants to hate him but she can’t, she likes him too much. She only hates herself for being this stupid and trust a womanizer like Bucky.

There, she remains, in the navy blue couch the man she loves sleeps in. For what feel like hours but could have been minutes, the young woman muses over what could have been, or rather, what should never have been. It only brings more tears to her eyes when she smells his cologne etched onto the pillow to her right or when her gaze lands on his belongings scattered nearby. She knows that it can’t go back to what it was before. Bucky might forget it happened, try to make her forget too, but she won’t. She will never forget the way their mouths moved hungrily against each other or the determined expression on his features as he walked away.

The sound of steps outside the apartment’s door put an end to her reverie hastily. Her head turns sharply to the sound of a key being inserted in the lock, so she gets up quickly, not bothering to turn the tv off before she darts to her bedroom. As the front door unlocks, the one to her room does the opposite.

Bucky closes the door behind him softly, dropping the keys Steve got him on the table nearby. He turns to hang his leather jacket but pauses, a sigh leaving past his lips when he notices her attire on the rack.

The tv is on, but there’s no sign of Steve or her. Y/N’s neat booties are toppled over near the couch so he picks them up carefully and places them near the entrance. The door to her room is closed, but he approaches it anyways, hoping he’s able to continue the friendship they both had.

Bucky knocks, “Parker are ya in there?” He waits, but after a few seconds without an answer, Bucky tries again, “Y/N can I come in? I just wanna talk.” His hand reaches for the knob, twisting it. The door doesn’t budge and he sighs. It’s locked. “Babyd-” The brunette clears his throat, “I want us to be friends, Parker. Ya gotta give me something.”

On the other side of the door, Y/N fumes. Bucky’s voice is no longer soothing, but a plague to her ears. She wants it to stop.

The sadness and betrayal morph into anger and annoyance waiting to be disposed, so she unlocks and opens the door swiftly, “Oh you want to be my friend, _Barnes_? Well I’ll tell you what _friends_ don’t do.”

Bucky flinches noticeably at the menacing use of his last name, shame then coating his features as his eyes roam her exhausted face. He gulps, “Listen-”

“No, _you_ fucking listen. Friends don’t do what you did this morning over there,” She points at the kitchen behind him, “Friends don’t look at each other the way you looked at me in the car, and I’m pretty fucking sure friends don’t kiss like we did,” Her voice cracks, red rimmed eyes becoming glossy, “So don’t you fucking tell me you want to be my friend because I don’t want to be yours. I want _nothing_ to do with you, Bucky Barnes.”

He watches frozen as the door slams in front of him. A shaky breath eases through his mouth, tears swelling in his own eyes.

He really did fuck up, didn’t he?

 

[…]

 

“What. Happened.” Steve asks for the billionth time, his face no longer soft and patient. He’s leaning against the kitchen island, his muscled arms crossed as he glares at Bucky on the living room. Behind the blonde, there’s the tray with a few pizza slices and a cup of orange juice on top he tried to give Y/N, but she wouldn’t open the door or even answer his pleas.

Bucky remains sprawled on the couch, an arm behind his head as his other hand holds the remote. The channels change constantly, his blue eyes fixated on the tv, trying to feign indifference to Steve’s words and harsh tone.

With Bucky’s lack of answer, Steve’s impatience grows. He’s one minute away from grabbing the brunette by the shirt and force the answers out of him, “Buck! What the hell happened!?” The blonde shouts, his fist slamming on top of the counter loudly as he takes a step towards the couch.

The brunette jumps, surprised by Steve’s outburst. He straightens up to a sitting position, “I-I don’t know what to tell ya, man. She was already in there when I got arrived.” Bucky spills quickly, not lying entirely, but hiding crucial details. He glances at Steve’s hardened features over his shoulder briefly, not being able to hold eye contact with his friend.

Steve’s eyes narrow, mouth parting in a snarl. He doesn’t get to voice his reply as the door to her room opens, both his head and Bucky’s snapping in the direction. Y/N steps out, a hand over her mouth as she yawns lazily. She goes around the kitchen island, bare feet padding against the floor whilst her hands pull her long hair into a ponytail, “Aww, thanks Stevie!” The ballerina smiles when her eyes land on the food set for her, acting if she hadn’t heard Steve at the door earlier. She takes a bite out of a slice and rolls her eyes, “So good. Haven’t had this in ages.” She says with her mouth full, finally gazing into the blonde’s eyes.

“You alright, Y/N? You were in there for a long time...” Steve says carefully, while Bucky swallows hard, not knowing how much of what happened she plans to disclose.

“I was busy. Had the headphones on.” She lies, pointing to her ears nonchalantly whilst shrugging.

“You sure? Bucky said y-”

“I had the music pretty loud.” She brings the conversation to an end, pulling the stool with her foot and sitting on it. A bite is taken off the pizza slice and then a gulp of the orange juice. Steve’s bulky form lingers near her, so she lifts both her eyebrows at the blonde, her mouth busy chewing the pizza.

“Yeah, right, sorry. I’m gonna take a shower ‘kay? If you need anything, just… call.” Steve ruffles her hair and moves to the bathroom, the sound of the water running being heard shortly after.

Y/N keeps eating her dinner, ignoring completely the other presence in the room. She wonders though, if Bucky was stupid enough to tell Steve what happened. _No_ , she snorts, he’d be dead if he had.

Bucky observes her from the couch, the tv’s flashing lights reflecting off the oversized shirt covering her back. He can’t help his gaze from wandering down her smooth legs, noticing the way they bounce from side to side like a child. She’s so close… He tries, “Parker-”

“Don’t.” She interrupts, her voice stern and strong, emotionless. The young woman doesn’t bother to turn around, not noticing the way his eyes fall as he turns back towards the tv.

She’s through with Bucky Barnes, so, she’s going to act as if he wasn’t even there in the first place.

The rest of her meal is eaten in silence, the voices coming from the tv filling the void where their own could be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm always eager to read your thoughts! Don't hesitate to leave a comment telling me what you think, suggestions, anything, as long as you're nice :)


	8. Chapter 8

The week goes by in a rush, Christmas day approaching quickly. Steve’s been awfully busy lately, his gallery bustling with movement all day, while Y/N attended the ballet classes in the morning, the afternoon occupied either by Christmas shows or late Christmas shopping. She kept her posture of ignoring Bucky’s existence all the while, much to Steve’s confusion and Bucky’s hurt.

Bucky didn’t think it would end like this. That it would be this hard, to not tease her and call her _babydoll_. The nightmares have gotten worse. Bucky wakes up damp in sweat each night, trashing against the couch, victim of the night horrors that follow him everywhere. But that’s not even the worst, because he brought this on himself, so he deserves it. The worst is to act like nothing’s happened, to shrug when Steve asks if he knows what’s wrong with her or try to ignore her in the morning. He has tried to talk to her, begged even, but it’s useless.

_“Y/N please talk to me.” He pleads, hands gripping the counter of the kitchen island harshly._

_She doesn’t turn around, only keeps preparing her breakfast as she does every day in the morning, mouth set, eyes focused on the task at hand. Berries land on the granola covered yogurt, her hand then reaching for a spoon on the drawer. She turns, bowl in hand and brushes past him, heading towards the couch._

_He grabs her arm instinctively, “Please-”_

_She yanks her arm out of his grasp harshly, her eyes glare at him, saying more than words ever could._

_Bucky falls to his knees in front of her desperately, his head coming to rest against her abdomen, hands wrapped around her thighs, “Parker, please, I’m beggin’ you! I can’t live like this, please, please talk to me.” He says, voice cracking with each sentence spoken, his eyes closed as he hopes she’ll forgive him somehow, she’ll allow him to be part of her life._

_After a minute, he feels her pull away slowly, hope sprouting within his chest at the thought of seeing a genuine smile directed towards him. When he opens his eyes, she has her back towards him, moving away towards her bedroom rather than the living room. As she closes the door, he crumbles down on the floor, not knowing the tears that flow down her cheeks silently._

Bucky fucked up. Bad. He’s tried to fix it, but in vain as she pays him no mind. She has _hm_ ’d at something he said at dinner, or voiced a greeting in the morning, but only when Steve’s present. For the blonde’s sake, she would do everything. Bucky knows that.

Steve has noticed how their demeanor towards each other changed drastically since that day. He doesn’t know what happened, hopes it’s none of the things that have crossed his mind. He’ll have to deal with the both of them eventually, help them sort things out because he’s their best friend, and that’s what best friends do, right? _No_ , that’s what Steve Rogers does. After Christmas day he’ll take care of that. Now, he won’t bother either of them with whichever may be the touchy subject.

“Ready to go?” Steve’s voice echoes down the corridor, soon the man himself striding into the living room where Y/N is slipping on her boots.

Pretty, decorated bags of gifts are scattered throughout the apartment’s entrance, ready to be loaded into the car downstairs. She grabs her duffle bag ready for the brief stay in Queens and slings it over her shoulder as she picks up the bags with Peter’s and May’s gifts, “Ready.”

Bucky emerges from the bathroom, soon at her side to help with the bags, “S’okay, I got it.” She mumbles without looking him in the eye, to which he responds with a nod, proceeding to grab the other packages nearby.

They go downstairs, the different bags distributed between the three. Stomping the snow covered sidewalk, they reach the car parked out front and load it, then hopping inside. She goes in the back, as Steve drives and Bucky rides shotgun. They’re dropping her in Queens and then heading over to the Rogers household.

The ride consists of about half an hour of Steve’s failed attempts at starting a conversation between all three, the gossip heard on the radio serving more of a distraction than anything he achieved. Eventually, they reach the building where her family lives, so Y/N opens the car’s door, intending to hop out.

“Woah, easy there! In a hurry, are you?” Steve laughs nervously as he turns back in the seat. She looks at him questioningly, closing the door so the cold doesn’t creep inside, “I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas, Y/N, that’s all.”

She sighs, a smile creeping onto her mouth at Steve’s kindness, “Thanks.” Her lips press against his cheek and she opens the door once again.

“Merry Christmas, Parker.” Bucky says in his velvety voice before she hops out, making eye contact with the young woman through the rearview mirror.

She looks away swiftly, hoping out of the car with the bags in hand. Before closing the door, she leans in, “Say hi to auntie Sarah and uncle Joe, alright Steve?” The ballerina glances at Bucky one more time, “Merry Christmas.”

 

[…]

 

Peter opens the door with a grin, his brown eyes twinkling. He hugs her tightly, dragging her inside with his arms around her.

“Hey kiddo.” She ruffles his brown hair when he lets her go, “What’s got you smiling like that?”

“You’ll see!” He says excitedly, grabbing her hand and leading her towards the living room, from where voices are heard.

Tony is sitting on the grey couch with May at his side, the conversation coming to an end as they both turn their heads at her arrival. She comes to a stop, Peter letting go of her hand to sit on the kitchen counter, seemingly proud that he’d show her the situation.

Her eyes jump lazily between May and Stark before they settle on the man, “Don’t you have like, a wife?” She says nonchalantly, flopping the bags on the floor near the counter where Peter is occupied fiddling with a weird looking gadget. The fridge door is opened and she reaches for the milk.

“Y/N!” May screeches from her seat, eyes wide and mouth agape at the way her niece addressed _Tony Stark_.

Tony stands, a chuckle leaving his mouth as he waves a hand dismissively, “It’s alright. I should get going anyway. Get back to that wife you mentioned.” He eyes her across the counter as he adjusts the lapels of his jacket, “Guess you’ll never know what I was telling May here.”

She lowers the milk carton from her lips, narrowing her eyes as she moves closer to the couch, “Guess not.”

He studies her carefully, the corner of his mouth twitching, eyes mirroring hers. Y/N is the one Tony loves to tease out of everyone, besides the goofball that is Steve, of course. She gets back at him, returns the wit with that sassiness of hers, not getting caught by his stance in society or his relationship with her teacher. She’s fierce, brave. He likes that, admires it. Tony hums, giving a final pull on the sleeves of his jacket before heading towards the door.

May rises from the couch swiftly and pulls her niece close before hugging her, “You didn’t tell me about Nick Fury’s offer! Congratulations, Y/N, I’m so proud of you!”

Tony huffs near the corridor that leads to the exit door, “Oh c’mon May. I thought you were on my side.” He steps back into the living room, “I was hoping to leave her in the dark for a few days.”

May shrugs apologetically, body pressed against the ballerina’s. The latter pulls back, confusion etched deeply onto her features, “I don’t… What?” She turns to Tony swiftly, expecting an explanation.

The billionaire shrugs, strolling leisurely across the room, “Yeah, you heard it. Head director of Shield’s Ballet Company wants you as their leading ballerina.”

She releases a high-pitched scream, “Oh my god! Oh my god!” She jumps on the couch, grabbing May’s hands, “I can’t believe it, May!” The giggles continue for a few seconds as she bounces on the couch.

Tony is slightly shocked, perhaps even terrified at her outburst. _Jesus, was I like this at twenty-five?_ He muses, glancing at Peter for reassurance, who only returns a shrug.   

Her laughs die down after a while, a solemn and panicked expression crossing her features, “What the hell am I gonna do?” Her hands leave May’s so they can be placed on her face, “I got asked to be part of Shield… _I_ was asked to be a part of Shield!”

Tony’s eyes widen, “Yeah, well, I’m gonna leave you to it.” He turns back towards the exit, this time his pace rushed.

She rises from the couch, “Wait, Tony! Did he say anything else?”

The billionaire stops and turns, a sigh leaving his mouth, “Look kid, that’s for Pepper to tell you. You weren’t even supposed to know through me! I was just here to speak with your prodigy of a brother, nothing else.” He gestures at Peter, the boy bowing his head as a blush spreads across his pale cheeks. “So, congrats and good luck dealing with _whatever_ you got going on.” Tony waves his hands around and bids a quick goodbye and a barely audible _Merry Christmas_ , soon closing the door behind him.

May grabs her niece’s hand, a smile on her lips. Her mouth parts but before she can speak, Peter’s voice comes from the kitchen, “We’re super happy for you, sis!” He jumps off the counter and runs towards the couch, pinching her cheek, “C’mon, I wanna show you something.” Peter ruffles her hair and then flees towards his room.

Y/N gives a final squeeze to May’s hand before getting up and following Peter, “Oh I’m gonna get you for that, you brat!” As she chases her brother, a happy grin spreads upon her lips.

Maybe her life isn’t going so bad after all.


	9. Chapter 9

“Wake up! C’mon sis, wake up!”

She rolls in bed, a grunt leaving her mouth as she feels Peter shaking her arm, “Go away.” She mumbles, both hands covering her ears from the boy’s voice.

“Y/N, I don’t care you’re sleeping. May says we can only open the gifts once we’re all there, so I need you to get up!” Peter says quickly, snickering inwardly when she opens her droopy eyes.

“What time is it, Peter?” She asks impatiently, her gaze on the boy with disheveled hair still in his plaid pajamas.

“Ten thirty.” He fidgets in place, “Pretty please? Just this once.”

She lets out a loud groan, earning a cackle from her brother, “Fine!” The covers are thrown off her body haphazardly, her bare feet touching the floor afterwards. The ballerina looks down at the Stark Industries shirt that covers her torso, and then at the crinkled sweatpants, “Let me at least put something else on-”

“No need.” Peter grabs his sister’s hand and drags her onto the living room, where May is seating on the couch with a robe wrapped around her. On the coffee table are two steaming mugs of coffee and a bowl of cereal Y/N assumes to be Peter’s.

“I see he woke you too.” The older woman says, her hand flying to smooth down her niece’s bed hair as she flops next to her.

“Yeah… Little shit didn’t let me sleep.”

May pats the young woman’s arm with the back of her hand, even though an amused smile is spread on her lips, “Don’t call your brother that, c’mon.” She says, earning a shrug from the ballerina.

Y/N glances at her brother hunched under the Christmas tree on the floor, his hand reaching for the presents on the back.

“Ookay…” Peter runs a hand through his tousled brown locks, eyes of the same color running over each wrapped gift franticly, deciding which to give out first. A smirk grows on his lips as he reaches for a box wrapped in red paper and reads the card, “From Y/N, to Peter! Oh thank you, I didn’t think you’d actually bother-” His older sister pushes his arm with her foot, causing him to topple to the side, “Just kidding, just kidding!”

The next hours are spent distributing the neatly wrapped gifts and trying them out. Y/N gave Peter a pristine analog camera from the 80’s she found in a thrift shop a few months ago, along with a couple of rolls for him to try out. Right there she teaches him how to use it, reminded of her time in Art school, and immediately he snaps a picture of her and their aunt side by side on the couch, pajamas wrinkled and huge silly smiles etched onto their features. May receives from her niece beautiful but simple jewelry pieces she promptly tries on and thanks repeatedly. Y/N doesn’t say a word, but she had been saving money for those since last year.

Peter, after receiving innumerous sweaters and shirts from May, proceeds to pull one last gift from his side, “From auntie May and baby brother Peter, to Y/N, the best ballerina in the world.”

Y/N grabs the gift from Peter’s hands, turning to May afterwards, “May, you didn’t have to…” She says softly, her features in a frown.

“Don’t worry about it, honey.” May smiles, a hand coming to rest on her niece’s shoulder, while the other gestures for the box on her lap, “Go on!”

They both observe expectantly as she claws at the Christmas themed wrapping paper, revealing a rectangular shaped wooden box, a pair of minimalist pointe shoes neatly carved in the middle of the lid. Elegant letters with the store’s name and address along with the shoe size adorn the top as well. The ballerina’s fingers run over them, “You guys...” She opens the lid, gasping at the beautiful baby pink pair of pointe’s inside. The silk strips slip between her fingers as she touches them, the end of the shoe accurately finished. Certainly an improvement on the worn out pointe shoes she’s been using for the past couple years.

“If they’re not your size, I have the receipt and yo-” May is interrupted by Y/N’s arms wrapping around her tightly.

“They’re perfect, May. Thank you so much.” The ballerina says into her aunt’s hair. She pulls away, her hands on the older woman’s arms as she looks into her eyes, “Thank you.”

“Hey, I was the one who sneakily managed to find the brand and shoe size of your old ones!” Peter says from the floor, his eyebrows lifted waiting some sort of recognition.

“Oh, did you now?” Y/N jumps to the floor and grabs her brother tightly, squeezing him against her as the boy groans, “Thank you, kiddo.”

Their laughter dies down as the doorbell is heard. Y/N glances at the clock as she mutters an _I’ll answer it_ , noticing it’s almost lunch time. She strolls to the door, her feet dragging against the floor while her hand brushes some stray hairs behind her ear.

The front door is opened and her jaw hangs, “What the hell are you doing here?!” She hisses, pushing the blonde’s chest adamantly though he remains in the same place.

“You weren’t answering your phone and we thought it’d be fun to have lunch together. Y/N c’mon, I’m sure May and Peter won’t mind.” Steve says, a boyish grin on his lips as he adjusts the hands in the pockets of his pants.

“ _We_ , huh?” Her gaze flickers at the brunette behind Steve, his dark chocolate locks gathered into a bun at the nape of his neck, torso covered with a nice wine colored shirt partially exposed by the unbuttoned black top coat, and finally, those ocean deep blue eyes that connect with hers briefly. The young woman swallows, “What about your parents?” She asks, hoping there’s some way out of this.

“They’re spending the day with my father’s family.” Steve snorts at her narrowed eyes, his features adopting a more honest tone afterwards, “Can we come in?”

She rolls her eyes, “May! Steve’s here and he wants to have lunch with us!” As long strides lead her past the living room, she mumbles, “And Bucky too.”

 

[…]

 

“The food was great, Mrs. Parker.” Bucky says as he puts the cutlery down, flashing a smile at the woman.

She chuckles, rising from her seat with several plates in hand, “It wasn’t me who cooked. It was Y/N, so you’ll have to thank her.”

The ballerina lifts her eyes from the plate, cheek against her fist with her arm perched on the table. Her other hand holding the fork stops fiddling with the food as her gaze connects with Bucky’s.

“The food was really good, Y/N.” Bucky mutters quickly, to which she replies with a mumbled _Thanks, Barnes_.

Steve cringes. It’s worse than he expected and he can’t stand to be around it one more second. He clears his throat, “I’ll help you with that, May.” As Y/N rises from the seat with the intent to help too, she’s lowered back down by Steve’s hand on her shoulder. A few dishes are taken by his hands into the kitchen, leaving Bucky, Peter and the young woman at the table.

She keeps her elbow propped on the table, chin now held by her hand as she gazes out the widow, trying to avoid the brunette sitting to her front.

Bucky clears his throat, “So, Peter! When I last saw ya, you were only five, you know? How’s everythin’? School, friends, _girlfriends_?” A teasing smile blossoms in lips as he wiggles his eyebrows looking at the flustered teenager.

Y/N narrows her eyes at the brunette.

“School’s good, really good actually. I got an internship at Stark Industries.” He glances from Bucky to his sister listening to him intently, “And ah… There’s this girl, Liz… She’s older than me, but I think she likes me.” He grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “We’re going out in a few days.”

Bucky opens his mouth with an amused expression on his face, but she speaks instead, “That’s great, Pete! Just be careful.” Her brother looks at her with confusion deep in his features, so she crosses her arms on top of the table, “You know, make sure she isn’t _pretending_ to like you, so then your date together doesn’t go terribly wrong and _you_ end up in the middle of Manhattan sad and by yourself while he left god knows where!” She lets out a loud dry laugh, her gaze having moved over to Bucky’s unconsciously as she spoke. The latter’s got his jaw clenched and his eyes advert down after a few seconds. Her lips purse and eyebrows lift in a cocky expression, _Yeah, take that._ She feels like she’s back in fifth grade. _Jesus._

Peter witnesses the exchange rather confused, the frown in his features slowly easing onto comprehension, “Ooh! So you guys-”

“Who wants desert?!” Shouts Steve, entering the room with a tray of several leftover sweets in hand, quickly placing them along the table.

She kicks Peter under the table, who muffles a yelp, glaring at her afterwards.

_Brat._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit of character development in terms of the relationship the reader has with May and Peter, which will be more important in the future. And it was also a bit of teasing Bucky with the shit he did, sorry not sorry  
> Hope I wrote this well, 'cause where I live we open the presents at midnight of the 25th, not in the morning lmao  
> Either way, thank you for the kudos and the comments, they make my day! <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter but an angsty one nonetheless.

She steps inside, foot closing the door behind her as she drops the keys on the table. Soon, her coat is hanged on the rack, shoes discarded nearby and duffel bag thrown on the floor as she walks towards the living room. She rounds the corner, adjusting the sleeves of her shirt, “Stevie, I’m-” She comes to a stop as her sight lands on Bucky and Steve seating on the couch, silent as if waiting her arrival. Her gaze flickers between both, settling on the blonde, “-home.”

Steve follows her to the kitchen, Bucky behind him, “What happened between you two?” He asks adamantly, his arms crossed.

Is Steve _actually_ doing this? Y/N closes the fridge door hastily, her features hardened, “Nothing.”

Steve steps in front of her when she tries to leave to her room, “Tell me.”

“You’re walking on thin ice, Steve.” She glares at the blonde with a shake of her head, “This is none of your business.”

“It’s my business from the moment it happens under _my_ roof! You need to talk about whatever is going on, it’s impossible to be around you two!”

“There is nothing to talk about, Steve! He made his fucking choice!” Her index finger points at the brunette on the other side of the kitchen island.

It’s the 28th, so Y/N has returned from Queens and they’re all back together in the apartment. Steve couldn’t bear it anymore, to be stuck in the middle of this tension filled dance the ballerina and Bucky seemed to be having. The mumbled words, or lack of them, the pained and embarrassed looks… Steve was tired of it, but above all, he was worried. So, what did he do? He approached the subject. Now he’s standing between Y/N and Bucky, his hands in front of him as he tries to reason with the shouting young woman, “Let’s just-”

“Choice? I want us to be friends, Parker! What the hell is your problem?!” Bucky throws his hands in the air, his tone exasperated as quick breaths ease through his parted lips.

Y/N glares at him through narrowed eyes, scoffing at the question she doesn’t bother answering. She walks around the counter, feet stomping the floor as she heads towards her room.

“You gonna ignore me? Really? Like this week wasn’t enough.”

The young woman stops, a deep huff leaving her nostrils as she turns, “You wanna know what my problem is, Bucky? Huh?” Steve’s hand that attempts to hold her back is slapped away, Y/N coming to stand inches away from Bucky. Tears burn her eyes, the scent of his cologne reminding her of that day last week only fuels her mix of sadness and anger further, “My _problem_ is that I’ve loved you since I was fucking fifteen.” The tears that run down her cheeks are wiped angrily, her eyes returning to Bucky’s stunned features, “You never looked at me that way; I was way too young at the time and I get it. So, I was over you. I was over you until last week, when you decided to feed my expectations, my dreams, my fucking _desires_ just to shatter them in front of me like they mean nothing!” She pushes him back violently, taking a step back herself.

A sob that breaks through her mouth is muffled by her hand, as she realizes that she just poured her heart out to Bucky, with _Steve_ watching. Her head hangs tiredly, the rapid breathing from before decreasing slowly as she regains her posture, “And maybe they don’t mean shit, to you at least.” She just wants closure, to move on. These past few days were torture, ignoring Bucky constantly, not being able to look into his eyes without tears swelling in hers. Y/N’s so tired. She just needs to know for sure, that this wasn’t all just a misunderstanding, because deep down her love for him is still the same even if she denies it. She still hopes he’ll just kiss her again like they did on the bridge, with the same look on his eyes. “Did you mean it, Bucky?”

“I…”

She looks up, her orbs connecting with his blue eyes, “Did you mean it?”

Bucky’s orbs search her face franticly, his lips opening and closing but no words being voiced. He knows she’s referring to the kiss. The kiss where they both showed what words couldn’t, the kiss that made his stomach flip and heart ache as he walked away. He’s not sure he loves her, _yet_. He could someday. Right now, he likes her a lot, enough to regret leaving her behind, to hurt her the way he did. He doesn’t know what to say, what to do… Be selfish and attempt to find relief in her, or be selfish and deny her feelings just so he doesn’t have to deal with his own mental dilemmas? Bucky is almost sure it’s too late for either, like she said, he made his choice.

With Bucky’s silence, Y/N sighs, a wavering smile on her lips as she nods, “Like I said, Steve, nothing to talk about.” She turns and strides onto her room, leaving both men behind.

After her door closes, the blonde speaks first, “You didn’t have the right, Buck.”

“Steve, it’s n-”

“Did you know?” Steve asks. He doubts Bucky didn’t.

Bucky tells the truth, there's no point in lying, “Yes.”

Steve’s blue eyes finally lift from the floor to Bucky’s, “You knew how she felt, and you still did it. You still hurt her. Why does it always end like this with you, Bucky?” His voice tone rises, “You toyed with Natasha and now Y/N?! Make up your goddamn mind!” Steve takes a deep breath, attempting to calm down after witnessing Bucky flinch at his tone, “You can’t keep doing this to other people, Bucky. You can’t. Not again, not to Y/N. I won’t allow it.” The last sentence is punctuated with Steve’s cerulean orbs boring into Bucky’s, the blonde’s jaw set tightly. He turns, walking towards his room. As his hand flies to the doorknob, he pauses, “Of all the people you could’ve messed with in New York, why Y/N? Why her?”

Because she’s not like the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated, peeps <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I was totally supposed to post this yesterday, but I got home from ballet class at like 11p.m. and passed out on the couch. Sorry  
> Anyways, here it is. No warnings to give, just a heads up for more dialogue than usual.  
> Hope you like it and thank you for the comments and kudos! <3

“Barnes, you gotta talk to me, man.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Sam’s seating in one of the many chairs displayed along the room, fingers intertwined with elbows perched on his knees, his brown orbs searching Bucky’s blue ones. The room’s silent, save for the distant voices or the brief sound of a door closing in the corridor outside. The morning sun shines through the windows, reflecting off the brick-colored carpet to the plain beige walls.

Bucky shifts in his seat, taking a deep breath afterwards. He’s nervous, he expected to enter a room full of people he could easily blend into, but was greeted instead by Sam alone. The brunette dreads talking, _thinking_ about what happened, about what _he_ caused.

Sam perceives Bucky’s nervousness, by the way his eyes keep flickering around and the hesitation present in his voice. Steve asked, _begged_ for Sam to speak to Bucky, to reach out to him and try to figure what’s going on inside his head.

“She uh-” Bucky gulps, his eyes focused on the carpet under his feet, “-Y/N, she hates me. I-I did something to her, s-something bad.”

Sam leans back on his chair, shaking his head, “I doubt she hates you. I saw the way you two were looking at each other in that restaurant.”

“No, Wilson, ya don’t understand.” The brunette’s eyes lift, but his fingers keep fidgeting with each other on his lap, “I hurt her.”

“What did you do?” Sam crosses his arms, his dark brows in a slight frown.

“I kissed her.”

The corner of Sam’s full lips twitches, but he clears his throat, “How is that bad?”

Bucky’s sorrowful eyes flicker down in shame, “I left afterwards.”

Sam throws his head back, a sigh leaving past his lips as his gaze moves to the ceiling, “So, this is about Y/N? Is that it? Man, Steve needs to be more specific next time.”

“No. I mean-” The brunette huffs, annoyed at himself for not being able to voice his thoughts, “I don’t know... The nightmares have gotten worse.”  

“After you two fought?” Bucky nods, “Why did you leave, Barnes?” Sam asks softly.

“Because… ‘cause my head is a fucking mess and I don’t know what to do about it. Because _I_ don’t deserve to be with her. I don’t trust myself after what happened with Natasha, after what I’ve seen, _done_ in the war…” Bucky leans forward, hands flying to his hair, “I shouldn’t have kissed her. She loved me and I did this to her. They’ll never forgive me.” He mumbles desperately.

“Barnes, look at me.” Sam snaps his fingers in front of the brunette, “What happened in the battlefield it’s not your fault. You did what you had to do for your own survival, you understand?” Sam sighs, a tight smile crossing his lips, “You deserve to be happy, just like I do, just like Riley did.” Bucky casts his eyes down uncomfortably at the mention of his friend’s partner.

“The thing with Nat was _bad_ to say the least. But we were all kids-”

“I wasn’t Wilson, I-”

“We were _all_ kids.” Sam continues, narrowing his eyes, “Specially _you_. I won’t excuse you from what you did, Barnes. You know I don’t condone that type of shit, but truth is, we were high schoolers. High schoolers have the brains of…” He gestures with his hand absentmindedly, “…pigeons.”

“And about Y/N… She doesn’t hate you, man, she’s hurt. She thought she was having a chance with the man she’s been in love with for the past ten years, but then he turned her down. How would you feel if it was the other way around?” Sam crosses his arms, a dark brow rising.

Bucky frowns, “Wait-‘ten years’? You knew this whole time?”

Sam chuckles lightheartedly, “I’ve known the girl since she was twelve, of course I knew. I think deep down we all did, including _you,_ but never mentioned it.”

The brunette sighs, “What do I do, Sam?”

“That’s up to you. Tell her the truth, apologize, kiss her again, or don’t, and just ask for her friendship. It’s your call, Barnes. Just don’t deprive yourself of that experience ‘cause you think you don’t deserve it. You do, and so does Y/N. You’ve both been through a lot.” Sam pauses for a few seconds, evaluating the expressions crossing Bucky’s features. He leans back again, his arms folded across his chest, “What do you feel for Y/N?”

Bucky shifts his blue orbs from Sam’s brown ones to the floor once again. His mind is swirling with thoughts and feelings about her. He needs to figure out what he wants, because right now he doesn’t know, and perhaps when he does it’ll be too late.

 

[…]

 

The faint hum of the tv is heard when Bucky steps inside the apartment, closing the door silently behind him. The sky was a deep indigo velvet when he left the restaurant, stars concealed by the bright lights emitting from the screens and lamps of New York city.

Sam thought it’d be for the best to spend the day with Bucky, to help him sort his thoughts. After the meeting, they strolled around Central Park, Bucky becoming extremely uncomfortable when they crossed Gapstow Bridge. Next, they had lunch with Steve, the subject of the conversation changing for the blonde’s sake. Steve left after the meal, so Sam dragged Bucky to the movie theater, claiming the latter had a lot to catch up to. Afterwards, they headed to Vision’s restaurant to have dinner, where they remained talking for the better part of the night. Bucky and Sam parted with a hug, both secretly happy that the state of their relationship progressed close to where it once was.

Bucky walks into the living room, intending to flop on the couch and pass out, today was the most social he has been in a while.

Only he can’t flop on the couch because Y/N’s there.

Her hair is sprawled over the couch’s armrest, some strands on her face, her head tilted to the side. Long lashes fan across her cheeks, soft breaths easing through parted lips as her chest moves up and down slowly. The tank top is slightly pulled up, exposing part of her waist where her hands are placed, one of them still holding the remote control loosely. Fluffy socks cover her feet and part of her legs, one of them bent at the knee against the couch, while the other is stretched along the seats.

Voices coming from the tv keep echoing through the living room as Bucky watches her. The lights illuminate her face differently every time they flash, as if giving the brunette a different perspective every time. She looks genuine, peaceful...

Bucky observes the young woman for as long as he wants. Seconds, minutes, hours? He’s not sure how long has passed when fatigue starts to dawn on him. He’s scared to wake her, because he knows when she does, this serene state she’s in will vanish rapidly. Bucky wants to go get Steve, but the blonde is long asleep. The soft snores heard from his room prove it.

“Y/N?” Bucky tries softly, “You gotta go to your bed, doll.” He notices the slip with the pet name, but doesn’t care. He’s done pretending. Bucky crouches near her, a smile blossoming in his lips at the way the corners of hers twitch upwards involuntarily.

A strand of hair is pushed away from her face by his hand, and she stirs, a crease forming between her brows, “Bucky?” She mumbles, her closed eyes twitching.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Bucky swipes a thumb over her cheek as she hums contently.

Y/N’s fingers curl around his bicep, feeling the firm cloth covered muscles briefly before her eyes snap open. Her body flinches and she sits up, quickly planting her feet on the floor. She didn’t think he’d _actually_ be there. With the amount of dreams she’s been having of Bucky, it’s difficult to tell whether it’s reality or not while in the limbo of sleep. She stands, her gaze away from his as she turns and brushes past him to her room.

Bucky knows this isn’t the best time, but he needs to let her know. Try, at least. He stands too, his gaze flickering from the hand that was cupping her face moments before, to her retreating form, “Y/N, I uh-I need to talk to you.” When she stops he relaxes a little, even though she keeps her back turned to him, “I mean, it doesn’t have to be now. I-I just need to know you’ll hear me out.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” She replies tiredly, her voice barely audible.

“No- I…” He sighs, “There is, trust me. Please.”

Bucky looks at her features as she turns to face him. Her eyes swipe the room before landing on his, “What can you possibly have to say, Bucky?” Her voice is adamant, mouth parted as her head tilts to the side slightly. Her expression is stoic, gaze piercing into his own.

“Please, Y/N.” Bucky watches as she considers his request, her shoulders slumping with a sigh, head shaking lightly with her eyes now on the floor.

Her lips purse before her gaze returns to his. He’s trying, she’ll give him that. She blinks lazily, “Tomorrow.”

When the door to her room closes, Bucky slumps on the couch, noticing how the armrest where her head previously was smells faintly of her shampoo.

It wasn’t the most elaborate of answers, however it was an answer. _Y/N answered him_.

It’s not much, but it’s a start.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Sexual Content (not a lot but a bit I guess, not exactly smut, idk I'm bad at this)

The moonlight filters through the curtains, casting a pale hue over her room. Occasionally a car drives by, the engine’s rumble echoing through the silent and cold atmosphere outside. She lays in bed, her cheek pressed against the pillow, arms under it. The sheets wrap around her body when she rolls over, her previously closed eyes now open, staring at the ceiling. Y/N reaches for her phone, squinting when the screen’s light illuminates her face harshly.

_3.42 a.m._

She sits up, after an hour of lying awake, and takes a deep breath, her long hair cascading down her back. Her elbow is propped on her knee, as her other hand flips the device in the air.

Sleeping is proving to be difficult, her mind swirling with thoughts of what Bucky might want to say to her. She’s excited, but also scared of what it might be. Maybe she shouldn’t have agreed to the conversation... What if- _No_ , they need to talk. These past few days have been ridiculous. _Stop being such a coward, Y/N_.

The covers detangle from around her body as she moves to the edge of the bed. The blankets sprawled on the floor are caught and thrown on her bed after the ballerina stands. She heads for the door, one hand on the knob as the other slips the socks on her feet.

The rest of the house is quiet as she steps out of her room save for Steve’s soft snores and the occasional shifting in the living room. Y/N approaches it, placing her feet carefully so not to wake the sleeping brunette. Her eyes sweep over his form briefly as she rounds the counter, fingers tracing the cold marble countertop. A glass is taken from the cabinet above, a hand then rummaging through the meds drawer while the other reaches for the water jar. When she finally finds her sleeping pills, a sigh leaves her mouth as she notices the nearly empty box. She’s had trouble sleeping since she can remember, usually worse when in stress, exams, performances, _this_.

The young woman hesitates for a moment, but eventually turns and fills the glass with water, taking a sip afterwards. As her fingers holding the small blue capsule move to her mouth, a grunt is heard. She stops, her wide eyes searching frantically for the source of the elaborate breathing that follows. After a few seconds, she understands where it’s coming from.

Bucky’s chest heaves rapidly, his fingers curled tightly around the sheets. Y/N drops the pill and darts to his side, placing the glass of water on the coffee table nearby. Any resentment for the brunette leaves her mind as she watches him anxiously. His features in a deep frown adopt a panicked expression occasionally, teeth gritting together and nose crinkling. A drop of sweat runs down his temple, damp hair shifting with each of his movements.

Uncertain, she touches his forehead softly, her hand then brushing down to his cheek, his deep breaths fanning her fingers, “Bucky?” Y/N calls softly. The man keeps trashing in front of her, so she says more firmly, “Wake up, Bucky. _Bucky?_ ”

_“Buck?!”_

_He feels drowsy, his sight blurry and mouth dry. The sun is strong, his skin damp in sweat sticks to his uniform. Dirt clings onto his cheeks and neck, the rocks scattered throughout the terrain digging into his back. His body is tired and his arm hurts. Why does it hurt so much?_

_“Barnes, can you hear me?! Get up!” A distant voice shouts, the gunfire and screams seem to drown it._

_Bucky stirs, a pained groan leaving his mouth. He brings his right arm to his front, blocking the sun from his eyes as he attempts to sit up. The voices and piercing sounds of gunfire are no longer distant, and what’s in front of him slowly comes into focus. A hand grabs his upper arm and pulls him up, Private Morita’s face coming into view. The soldier backs the brunette against an abandoned car, quickly snatching the walkie-talkie from his vest. His mouth moves, but Bucky doesn’t listen, he seems to have frozen. Blue eyes sweep over his left arm, the living flesh seeming to pulse around the torn skin, little of what remains of the uniform’s sleeve damp in blood. His heart rate picks up and his eyes are wide, panicked breaths coming in and out of his mouth._

_“What happened?!” Bucky shouts distressed, tears swelling in his eyes at the pain that shoots up his arm. All his training is ignored when he takes the weapon slung over his shoulder and throws it to the ground. He slides down to a sitting position, his back brushing against the car’s damaged texture as he cradles his left arm against his chest. His right hand tries to touch the marred flesh, only to recoil in fear and disgust._

_Gunfire nearby causes them to flinch behind the car. Morita kneels in front of Bucky, one hand on the trigger while the other swipes blood off his forehead, “We gonna to get you out of here, Barnes! They’re on the-” A bullet cuts the air and it sheathes itself on the Private’s neck, sending him to the ground immediately, blood oozing through the sides of his mouth._

_Bucky closes his eyes, curling himself further into the car to avoid looking at his dead friend. He presses his mouth into a tight line to prevent the sobs threatening to slip through and hugs his hurt arm close to his chest. And then he knows. He might not make it._

He wakes with a gasp, fingers curled tightly around something warm and soft. Blue eyes snap open only to be gazing onto Y/N’s wide ones. He glances at his hand, immediately releasing the hold on her wrist as if it burns, “I’m s-sorry.” Bucky mumbles as he sits up, running a shaky hand through his wet hair.

She doesn’t say a word, only passes him the glass of water, worry etched onto her features. Her brows knit together, lips in a slight pout as she observes him, “Do you want to talk about it?” She asks softly, her finger approaching his face to swipe away a stray tear that had rolled down his cheek without him noticing.

Bucky swallows, his eyes closing upon the brief feeling of her skin against his. He shakes his head, “No.”

“That’s okay.” Y/N smiles reassuringly, standing up from her seat in front of the couch, “I’m gonna-”

“No, please.” Bucky’s voice wavers, “I-I don’t wanna be alone.”

Her heart clenches, eyes flickering from his to the ground. It pains her so much to see Bucky like this, even after everything. She can’t say no, for Bucky’s but also Steve’s sake.

Bucky takes her silence the wrong way, his lips press into a tight line, “Can you go get Steve? He’s been staying with me every other night-”

“I-uh… I could stay with you tonight? Steve’s sleeping like a rock.” She says, both chuckling softly when a particularly loud snore is heard from the blonde’s room. She motions with her head towards her room, heading to it with the brunette in tow.

Bucky hesitates once he steps inside, the corner of his lip twitching with the familiarity of the room. It all screams Y/N. From the brick wall, where the window’s located adorned with fairy lights, to the adjacent white one where several drawings are fixated to. Some of them are Steve’s drawings of her, Bucky can tell by the style, while others are her drawings of their friends, Sam, Nat, Wanda, Thor and even him, Bucky. His brows frown upon noticing his face amongst the drawings. The fact that she kept them there after what he’s done to her is beyond him. Against that wall it’s a chair and a desk, a small lamp as well as papers and photographs scattered around her laptop. To his right there’s a wall length mirror, a dresser next to it. The dresser has a couple drawers open, pieces of clothing partially falling from them. On top of it are placed various beauty products, as well as a smaller mirror. As Bucky comes near it, her scent fills his nostrils.

She slips under the covers first, while he stands awkwardly by the door. Y/N leans on her elbow, “It’s okay.” She says softly, a reassuring smile ghosting her lips as her hand pats the empty space next to her. He lays down, settling on the bed facing her. Both are taken aback at how familiar everything feels. A couple minutes pass of them silently admiring each other’s features beneath the dim lightning of the room.

Bucky’s breathing has returned to normal, his face no longer flushed and glistening. He glances at her sleepy eyes before curling his body closer to her, “Thank you.” 

For a moment, she tenses at his proximity, but upon feeling his calm breathing against her chest and their legs tangling together, she relaxes, gently running her fingers through his tousled locks, “It’s nothing, Buck. You’re okay now.”

They both lay against each other for the rest of the night, Bucky clinging onto Y/N as if his life depended on it. He manages to get some sleep, her body heat in pair with the gentle ministrations serve as a reassurance he won’t be alone throughout the night, somehow preventing the nightmares to plague his mind this time.

She lies awake for the most part of the night, staring at the darkness that engulfs her room. _What’s going to happen in the morning?_ She can’t get that question out of her head. God, she loves Bucky. So much. But she’s not going to wait for him forever.

Once again, Y/N ponders about what he might have to say.

 

[…]

 

Brooklyn is bustling to life, cars and pedestrians already heard outside. The morning sunlight seeps through the window and reflects off the white sheets covering their bodies.

Bucky stirs, still enveloped in Y/N’s embrace. His eyes blink a few times, getting used to the brightness of the room before settling on her angel-like face. He traces her jaw with his fingers for a few seconds, removing his hand when her eyes flutter open, “Mornin’ doll.”

“Hey.” She replies softly, detangling herself from him. Y/N rolls so her back is against the mattress, her hands coming to rub her eyes.

Bucky remains on his side, head perched on his hand as he observes her intently. The sheets are pushed down to his waist, exposing his toned torso.

Her hands drop to the side and she sighs, turning her head towards him. She notices Bucky’s eyes on her, a smile pulling at her lips when she sees his disheveled hair, “What?”

“I’m sorry.”

Her smile falters, gaze returning to the ceiling for a few seconds, “I’m sorry too.”

Bucky scoffs lightly, “For what?”

“For not talking to you. You wanted to be my friend and I fucked it up.” Y/N turns to her side so she can face him, although her eyes focus on her hands gripping the sheets, “Why did you kiss me, if you don’t like me?” She whispers, tears swelling in her eyes.

“I like ya, babydoll. It’s just… It’s complicated.” He sighs, scooting closer to her. Her cheek is pressed against the pillow, plumping her lips as her eyes look up at him hopefully. Bucky brings his hand to her face, brushing his thumb along her cheek, “I’m the one who should apologize. I shouldn’t have left that day. I was an asshole.”

“Yes, you were.” A bubbly laugh escapes her between a sniff. She intertwines her fingers with his, observing the veins in his fist, “Why did you do it?”

Bucky sighs, “I don’t know.” He pauses for a few moments, “I didn’t know what I wanted, doll. I’m not even sure I do now.” Bucky pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, “You’re amazing, Y/N, but I... I don’t know how long I can go without messin’ things up. I don’t want ya to be stuck with someone like me.”

“I won’t be stuck, Bucky. I want you.” Y/N says breathless, her hand snaking around his neck to bury itself on the brown locks. Their noses brush, lips ghosting over each other, “But… I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t wait forever.”

The brunette’s eyes flicker to hers desperately, his insides clenching upon hearing her words. The mere thought of her in another man’s arms infuriates him. He doesn’t want her _with_ him, but he also doesn’t want her _without_ him. Again, Bucky’s being selfish and he knows it.

He needs to either embrace her, or let her go.

Y/N’s features grow more and more somber with each passing second of Bucky’s silence. Their eyes examine each other for a couple minutes, Bucky trying to organize his thoughts as Y/N begins to accept that maybe they weren’t meant to be.

Until Bucky’s lips connect with her own and any doubts either of them had vanish from their minds. Her hand brushes down his naked chest, the other still clutching his hair. She tugs at the locks, the brunette releasing a low moan into the kiss. His hands slide down her side and sneak under her top, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his palms.

They part after a minute, both panting slightly. His blue eyes sweep over her face, ghosting the plumped, wet lips and the blown pupils concealing the beautiful color of her eyes. Each of his hands goes to her hips, pulling her body on top of his in one swift motion.

Y/N’s hands fly to his chest so she can steady herself, a small whimper easing past her lips when she feels the bulge pressing against her core. Bucky grins, quickly pushing his lips against hers again, his tongue gaining access to her mouth instantaneously. A moan leaves both as they grind together, hands clawing at each other’s skin while their mouths move hungrily in unison.

The young woman pulls away, resting her forehead next to where his head is placed, the heavy breaths and whimpers filtering deliciously right to the brunette’s ear, “Bucky-” She moans breathless as his hands slide up her torso, his thumbs caressing the side of her breasts. Her forearms are propped on the bed, hands gripping the sheets tighter with each thrust of Bucky’s hips against her own, her clit rubbing against the fabric of her panties only adds to the pleasure.

“Is this okay, doll?” Bucky whispers, stilling their movement for a split second.

Y/N nods against the bed, “Yeah.” Her head turns and she places a sloppy kiss against his cheek, “You can do anything you want, Bucky.”

The way she’s losing herself to him, the timbre of her voice against his ear and the friction of her core against him causes his cock to twitch painfully, constricted by the sweatpants covering his legs. He’s desperate, breathing heavily as he slips her top over her head, finally exposing her. Cerulean eyes roam over her torso hungrily, before big yet gentle hands move to knead her breasts, the young woman throwing her head back.

Bucky pulls her down, lips crashing together in a sloppy, wet kiss, teeth clashing and tongues wrestling each other. Her hardened nipples brush against his naked chest as his hands sneak under her shorts, gripping the flesh of her ass and pressing her down on him harshly. Y/N sucks in a breath, parting from the kiss with a moan. Her pussy throbs in anticipation, hands fumbling to undo the knot on Bucky’s sweatpants.

Bucky watches her lust blown eyes focused on the hem of his pants, her hands pushing and pulling at the ties. He never thought he’d see her like this, wanting him so bad, so desperate for him. Their gazes connect, a timid smirk crossing her lips as she begins to push the sweatpants down his-

“Y/N?” A knock is heard, “Do you know where Bucky is?”

Y/N and Bucky both suck in a breath, eyes wide and staring at each other upon hearing Steve’s voice on the other side of the door. Her hands on the waistband stop their movement, her eyes closing and head shaking with a quiet laugh.

“Wait up.” She replies loudly, leaning down to peck Bucky’s smiling lips. Y/N whispers jokingly, “God, Steve’s such a cock block.”

Their chests heave from the anticipation, Bucky’s half hard cock still pressing against her core. His hands run up her back, keeping her down. Her forehead rests against his, goofy grins on their lips, “Maybe we should take this slowly.” Bucky whispers, his fingertips sliding across the smooth skin of her sides.

“You’re right.” She slides off the brunette slowly and flops next to him on the mattress, retrieving her top meanwhile. They both stare at the ceiling for a minute. Steve shuffling outside catches her attention, so she intertwines her fingers with Bucky’s while she can. The brunette flinches at the contact, but soon relaxes into it when she brings his scarred hand to her lips and kisses the skin, “You know I love you, Bucky.”

“Yeah, doll.” Bucky replies, even though he understands it’s not a question, but a statement. That’s part of the reason why he keeps his gaze forward, not being able to look her in the eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the feedback <3, and sorry for taking so long to get this chapter out! School's starting next week, so I might take a bit longer to post the next chapters, sorry again :(

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on [tumblr](http://bit.ly/2fbyH4o), in case you wanna say hi and join me in screaming over Sebastian Stan


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